


Pulling Weeds

by disillusionist9



Series: Choose Dare [48]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Gen, Herbology
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-01
Updated: 2016-09-01
Packaged: 2018-08-12 10:45:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7931662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/disillusionist9/pseuds/disillusionist9
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Drabble #49 of 100 | As James Potter's magical attorney, Millicent is kept on her toes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pulling Weeds

"Mister Potter?"

"In the greenhouse, Millie."

Millicent Bulstrode rolled her eyes and pushed her glasses a bit further up on her nose, treading carefully over the cobblestones in the backyard of Potter Manor.

She should have known to change her shoes before leaving the office of records but was left with no time to stop at her cottage before visiting her client. Parvati had cornered her in the lift, such an incessant creature she was, grasping at Millicent's hands with a desperate, crazed look in her eyes. The poor girl spent too much time at Hogwarts with Trelawny.

"Ah, my favorite solicitor," greeted James Potter, popping his head up briefly from behind a trellis of some climbing vine he was working on splicing. His smile was covered by a tightly secured mask to avoid the fumes coming from a putrid yellow flower at the end of the greenhouse.

"Good evening, Mister Potter," she said, reaching out for another mask hanging by the door. _More like your bloody assistant, these days._ "I anticipated your owl much later this week."

James paused his movements, the small snipping tool in his hand glinting in the light through the ceiling. "Did you have plans this evening, were you going to dinner with Cormac?"

Her lips pursed behind her mask. "Your progress is coming along quicker than what you told me, and I've dropped by on business, not a social call."

"And you've already started scolding me," James said, as he continued working on the trellis. "Didn't take long this time."

Millicent huffed and declined to comment, leaving James to his pouting. The man spent his entire day in the greenhouse, cooping himself up after the passing of his wife several years ago to dragonpox, only retreating from the home when Harry visited. She'd ordered him several magazine subscriptions to read the gossip, but he invariably asked forward questions about things she'd rather not discuss with her client.

Separates were much better, when feelings were involved.

"So you've found the right temperature to grow the seedlings?" she prompted, pulling out her self-inking quill and notepad, and settling down on the high stool near his workbench.

James nodded, starting to become engrossed in his task, once more. "Yes. For such a simple potion, the ingredients are very fickle. Professor Flitwick and I were speaking over tea this Sunday and the idea struck me when he reheated the teapot."

Millicent took notes on everything he discussed, documenting for James's intellectual rights, and including the commentary of others. Many accused him of taking Lily's work as his own, and it was Millicent's job to combat that notion with reams of documentation.

Hours passed, James diligently working down the line of seedlings or trellises in this greenhouse, speaking almost nonstop to his solicitor. Millicent only noted the passage of time by the sun setting on the westward facing lawn, and by counting each weed pulled by grubby, calloused fingers catching her attention more than she felt strictly necessary. Her jaw worked of its own accord in an aching yawn.

"I've kept you long enough," James said gently, a small smile at the corner of his mouth. His eyes were creased at the corners, and his mask was pulled aside, the yellow plant asleep for the evening. "I'd offer you tea, before you go, but you look like you're about to fall asleep where you sit. Would you like me to Apparate you to your cottage?"

 _Yes, please_ is what she thought.

"I'll be fine," was what she said.

James patted her on the shoulder, walking her to the front step beyond the Apparition wards. His hands were clean, had she truly fallen asleep, or did she miss a nonverbal Scourgify? The hand on her shoulder was warm, warm enough for her to feel it through a full set of dress robes meant for Wizengamot hearings.

"Lunch tomorrow? My treat," James asked before she left.

Millie allowed herself a small smile at the tone of his voice, bright and hopeful, despite hours and hours of use discussing his latest innovation. No hint of exhaustion. A man old enough to be her father, up and bouncing around as if he'd just finished his third cup of coffee. Infuriating.

"If you promise to owl me your receipts by next Friday?" she admonished, serious but too tired to put much force behind it.

"Done!" James leaned over to kiss her forehead, like she'd seen him to do Ginny, his son's wife, countless times.

Inside a war raged at the small gesture that he'd never bestowed on her before, but on the outside she smiled softly, wished James a good night, and rushed home to her two kneazles. At least they didn't make her feel confusing emotions that would likely get her in trouble one day.


End file.
